to send across the mountains for one, and it
would be many days before it could be brought. What if some great
wrong should be done before it came? How could the judges know about
it, if the in-jured one could not reach the old rope?

"Let me fix it for you," said a man who stood by.

He ran into his garden, which was not far away, and soon came back
with a long grape-vine in his hands.

"This will do for a rope," he said; and he climbed up, and fastened it
to the bell. The slender vine, with its leaves and ten-drils still
upon it, trailed to the ground.

"Yes," said the judges, "it is a very good rope. Let it be as it is."

Now, on the hill-side above the village, there lived a man who had
once been a brave knight. In his youth he had ridden through many
lands, and he had fought in many a battle. His best friend through all
that time had been his horse,--a strong, noble steed that had borne
him safe through many a danger.

But the knight, when he grew older, cared no more to ride into battle;
he cared no more to do brave deeds; he thought of nothing but gold; he
became a miser. At last he sold all that he had, except his horse, and
went to live in a little hut on the hill-side. Day after day he sat
among his money bags, and planned how he might get more gold; and day
after day his horse stood in his bare stall, half-starved, and
shiv-er-ing with cold.

"What is the use of keeping that lazy steed?" said the miser to
himself one morning. "Every week it costs me more to keep him than he
is worth. I might sell him; but there is not a man that wants him. I
cannot even give him away. I will turn him out to shift for himself,
and pick grass by the roadside. If he starves to death, so much the
better."

So the brave old horse was turned out to find what he could among the
rocks on the barren hill-side. Lame and sick, he strolled along the
dusty roads, glad to find a blade of grass or a thistle. The boys
threw stones at him, the dogs barked at him, and in all the world
there was no one to pity him.

One hot afternoon, when no one was upon the street, the horse chanced
to wander into the market place. Not a man nor child was there, for
the heat of the sun had driven them all indoors. The gates were wide
open; the poor beast could roam where he pleased. He saw the
grape-vine rope that hung from the bell of justice. The leaves and
tendrils upon it were still fresh and green, for it had not been there
long. What a fine